


Drunk on You

by everlovingdeer



Series: Harry Potter Short Stories [167]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Childhood Friends, Cute, Eventual Relationships, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Post-Hogwarts, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-22 13:17:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22716661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everlovingdeer/pseuds/everlovingdeer
Summary: “You’re blunter than you used to be,” I said slowly, marvelling at how much he’d changed in the five years since he’d left Hogwarts. “Alotmore blunt.”“Is that a bad thing?”“No,” I said after another moment’s thought. It certainly made this, the earlier part of our relationship easier, with no blundering or uncertainty that made us pussyfoot around. “It’s not a bad thing. It’s kind of refreshing actually.”
Relationships: Seamus Finnigan/Original Female Character(s), Seamus Finnigan/Reader
Series: Harry Potter Short Stories [167]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1461751
Kudos: 78





	1. Drunk on You

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted to other sites on 24/12/19

Within months of beginning my adult working life, I’d quickly decided that working in the Ministry – in the Accidental Magic Reversal Department – was one of the most stressful places to work. Of course, others would protest that it couldn’t be the most stressful when people worked as Aurors and as Healers and then of course, there was the Minister of Magic, as well. But Merlin, only people who worked in our department knew what it was like to be pulled away from your small office to go and obliviate a muggle who’d been caught in the crossfire because of some accidental magic. More so when the child who’d done the magic was a muggle-born – convincing their parents that their child wasn’t an advocate of the devil (or even a deity) was a whole other headache. And the _length_ of the reports that needed to be filled in every time was much worse than any essay the teachers at Hogwarts could have ever assigned. 

My co-workers, in order to combat this stress and the headache that followed us home after work, liked to drink. When you had as low tolerance as I did, it became an issue. Quickly, within weeks of working at the Ministry and in my particular team, I’d realised that more often than not, my co-workers went to the pub to unwind. Most were accepting that if I drank more than one glass of wine, I risked splinching myself on my way home. But there were some – absolute bastards – who didn’t like to get drunk alone. And it was because of people like them that I’d fallen into the habit of slipping out of work early. Rather, I _had_ been doing that before I’d found out I was being eyed for a promotion. Unfortunately, with my newly re-established dedication to my work, I was dragged to a godforsaken pub more often than I would like.

Despite my protests, I found myself sitting in a booth in the usual pub and nursing a glass of white wine. I’d drank it much slower than my colleagues drank theirs; whilst I finished one, some were on their fourth drink. Godric, I’d honestly expected more from grown adults but sure enough, they were getting progressively rowdier.

Emptying my glass, I made the excuse of getting another one so I could leave. My co-workers were so giddy in the beginning stages of their drunken haze that they didn’t question why I needed my coat and handbag to go to the bar. Instead, they waved me away. Relieved, I picked up my empty glass and navigated my way through the crowd towards the bar. Finding an empty space, I got to the counter and set my glass down and prepared to wade my way through the people so I could leave.

That had been the plan. But then, there was a surprised call of my surname, “ _Eubanks!_ ” that had me abandoning the idea. I turned back to the bar, to find one of my old school friends standing there and looking at me with raised brows. Although I wasn’t all that surprised to see him – Finnigan had always wanted to work in a pub.

“You work here?” I asked, walking back towards the bar and leaning against it.

“I own it,” he corrected, leaning close to the bar so the other bartender could walk past him. His eyes raked over my face in surprise before looking once more to the empty glass I’d abandoned. He picked it up, raising it to his nose and to my utter confusion, he sniffed it. His eyes flickered back to mine, narrowing before asking, “How many of these have you had? Do I need to get someone to help you home?”

I scowled for a moment, knowing how often he’d been around to witness the scenes I wound up in when I drank too much. “I’ve had just the one.”

His suspicious gaze didn’t lessen, “Really?”

“I’m still able to stand, aren’t I?” I pointed out.

“That you are,” he agreed with a smile. He gestured to the empty barstool and it had been so long since we’d spoken – since the big battle in my sixth year if I remembered correctly – that I settled down without a fuss. “Wait here.”

I watched, bemused, as Finnigan disappeared into another room and left me sitting there. The other bartender, a woman younger than I was, offered to serve me but when she found out I was waiting for Finnigan, she returned to the other customers who were queueing for their drinks. I wasn’t waiting long. Finnigan returned not long after, handing me a glass of something dark coloured and … fizzy?

“Thanks, Finnigan,” I said dubiously, accepted the glass. For a moment, I stared at the ice in the glass as I swirled my straw around before he scoffed.

“Call me Seamus,” he said, rolling his eyes and paying no mind to the people he should’ve been serving. “There’s no need to call me by my surname.”

“You first,” I demanded, shooting him a pointed look.

“Touché, Eubanks.” Struggling not to smile, I raised the straw to my mouth and took a tentative sip. This –

Looking sharply at Seamus, I asked, “Coke?”

“Keep it a secret,” he said with a teasing wink. “The moment it gets out that I sell coca-cola, my pub gets flooded with people who’ve lived in the muggle world.”

“I always did hate that it was so hard to find muggle fizzy drinks,” I said around the straw, taking another long sip. Seamus, amused by how I refused to move away from the glass, chuckled lowly. He leaned forward once more, bracing his crossed arms on the bar. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“It’s been a while since we talked,” he shrugged, “that’s all.”

“You’re saying that like we talked much whilst we were at school.”

“Hey,” he mock scowled. “I was the shoulder you cried on every time you became a weepy drunk.”

* * *

The next time my co-workers insisted on heading out for a drink after work, I followed them reluctantly. Of course, I’d tried to sneak out and make excuses about having work I needed to complete but all my protests fell on deaf ears. Merlin, I was almost frogmarched out of the Ministry and towards the pub. Although, when I spotted the familiar sign of the pub they wanted to visit, my hesitation faded slightly. If it was this pub and Seamus was working – which he should be considering it was _his_ pub – then I could slip away unseen. Perhaps the reaction was a bit more obvious than I thought, given the curious looks I was getting from the people I worked with.

Untangling my arm from the person dragging me along, I followed behind them as they walked into the pub. Although, the best way for me to end the day would’ve been to head home and take a long bubble bath – especially when I remembered the _long_ conversation I needed to have with the unknowing and sceptical parents of a muggle-born 5-year-old who’d managed to turn their family poodle into a fluffy footstool – I could settle for talking about absolute rubbish with Seamus.

Seamus’s pub was as busy as it usually was, with seemingly all of the Ministry workers popping in for a drink, and it was a struggle to find space. But somehow, they always managed to find a space. But it was so busy that even Seamus was pottering around at work, with a dishcloth over a shoulder and a tray of empty glasses in one hand. From behind, I watched as he placed the tray onto the bar for the bartender to clean away before darting back to the now empty booth. He cast a cleaning charm and then wiped it down once more. Straightening up then, he gestured for the cluster of my co-workers to sit. They didn’t need to be told twice.

Realising that I was still standing, someone – probably Lewis (the irritating bastard who drank like he needed it to breathe) – called out loudly for me to join him. With a sigh, I approached the booth to take my seat on the end when Seamus was there, stepping into my path with a teasing smile.

“I’m not in the mood,” I warned, even as a smile spread over my face. He clearly didn’t buy it – not that I blamed him.

“What happened to your backbone, Eubanks?” he asked, slinging the tea cloth once more over his shoulder. “You’re letting the Gryffindor side down by being so passive.”

“You of all people know that I am _not_ passive.” I sighed as Lewis called my name again, wanting to call out for the bastard to order his own drink. If he was too cheap to fund his drinking, then he needed to reduce how much he drank. “Don’t you remember sixth year?”

“You helped us create havoc in the castle,” he remembered fondly before sighing again. “But, if you acted the way you did in your sixth year, you wouldn’t be here. You certainly wouldn’t let your co-workers keep dragging you here.”

“How do you know I didn’t come here to see you?” I teased.

“Well, in that case, you’re welcome to come whenever you want,” he said, snagging me by the hand when Lewis called out for me again so I could pay for the first round of drinks.

Before I could so much as tell Lewis to piss off, Seamus was walking me through the thick throng of people and towards the bar. We walked for a long moment, searching for an empty seat and finally finding one, he let go of my hand and gestured for me to sit. I hesitated for a moment, giving my hand a funny look; I hadn’t even realised that he’d been holding it still.

Hopping over the bar, Seamus asked, “Something wrong?”

“No,” I said quickly, preparing to sit. “Nothing’s wrong.”

Frowning, like he could hear something in my tone – and Merlin, I hoped he didn’t because I simply could _not_ be – no, I refused to think of it. Frowning, Seamus pointed towards an empty booth, one that had been closed off from the rest of the customers and ordered, “Go and sit down. You can remove the sign and just sit. Go.”

Seamus ducked back somewhere into the back and I walked off toward the empty booth. I removed the sign and realising that the hovering customers were eyeing the newly opened space, I slid into the booth. Taking my coat off and putting my handbag down, I used both to reserve spaces. Silently, I hoped that Seamus would come back quickly.

Eventually, he did return with what I instantly recognised as a glass of coke for me. He set it in front of me with a knowing smile, sliding into the booth to sit across from me. I took a long sip through the straw, settling back against the booth with a deep sigh. He was frowning again.

“What’ve you been doing that’s got you so tired?”

“You wouldn’t want to know,” I said simply, waving his words away. Seamus crossed his arms in answer, continuing to hold my eyes. “Really, it’s boring.”

“Doesn’t matter, tell me anyway.”

“Alright fine,” I sighed, “but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

And so, I divulged the story to him – starting with the struggle I faced with transfiguring the fluffy footstool back into a dog and he couldn’t help but snort a laugh that he covered up when I shot him a withering glare. When I started to tell him about the most aggravating parents I’d met and how they were _this_ close to calling the muggle police on me, he threw in some very Gryffindor comments. It was strange really, the way his comments echoed exactly what I’d been thinking – but didn’t dare to say aloud – when I was in that situation.

Even when my story grew ridiculously long, he didn’t complain and continued to listen without trying to shift the conversation onto him. Later, when I went home and felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders, I realised that it was the first time in ages that someone had just listened to something I said without trying to but in and hijack the story to one of their own.

* * *

If I had the sense that my parents always complimented me for, then I wouldn’t have waited so long to get a birthday present for my nephew. Rather, it wasn’t too late, but because it was the weekend, Diagon Alley was completely overrun with children and families and just _far_ too many people for me to be able to get the shopping done as quickly as I wanted to do. It had seemed so easy; all I had to do was get to Diagon Alley and head into George Weasley’s shop and pick up something that would have my brother resenting me when my nephew set it off in his house.

It was a win-win situation; I remained the favourite fun aunt, and I got back at my brother for the disastrous blind date he’d set me up on last month. But the moment I’d actually arrive in the street and saw just how many people were around, I knew it was _not_ going to be easy. Or quick. To make matters worse, it was the nearing Christmas time so it was even more packed with families who were scrambling to gather whatever else they needed for the holiday season. But, of all the shops, Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes was overrun with students determined to bring so much chaos on their return to the castle that it put Peeves to shame.

A simple errand took _far_ too long and by the time I made it out of the overly crowded shop and into the street, I could breathe freely. And good Godric, was I ready to head home.

“Eubanks!” the call of my surname, said by the voice was both welcome and unwelcome at the same time. Of course, I was pleased to see Seamus – for reasons I was unwilling to admit to anyone but myself – but really, right now I just wanted to go home. He must’ve realised it from my face, given the way he struggled not to smile when he came to my side. “Well, I guess I caught you in a bad mood, huh?”

“Not a bad mood,” I assured, shifting my shopping bags from one hand to the other. “I’m just tired.”

“Nothing better than tea for when you’re feeling tired,” he assured me, taking my shopping bags from me and gesturing for me to follow after him toward the tea shop.

I refused to move, saying with a bite, “Coffee works better, I find.”

“Come on,” he insisted, dropping back to take my hand again. This time I went easily, not because I’d changed my mind but because I was jarred once more by how easily Seamus took my hand. I wouldn’t have pulled my hand away even if I wanted to – not that I wanted to. “Stop making that face, you can complain all you want to me.”

“Since when did you get so rational?” I asked to the back of his head as we finally made it into the teashop and approached an empty table. “From what I remember, your temper could rival even Godric Gryffindor’s.”

“You’d be surprised,” Seamus started dryly as I sat down, “but when you own a pub, you get used to having to listen to people’s complaints.”

“No complaints today, I’m afraid.” He scoffed and then laughed when I scowled at him. “Really, no complaints. I just had to fight with what I’m sure was a twelve-year-old so I could get one of the last products left on George Weasley’s shelf.”

“Oh?”

“It’s a present, for someone.”

Seamus looked up from where he’d been tracing a finger across the patterns on the menu outlining the tea choices. He studied me from under his lashes and asking, “For a boyfriend?”

“Boyfriend?” I repeated incredulously.

He refused to look away. “Yeah, a boyfriend.”

“No – for my nephew. My _four-year-old_ nephew.” Seamus nodded to himself then and I swore he looked reassured. I’d be doing my Hogwarts house a disservice if I didn’t push past the worries I had about asking him what I wanted to ask. So, I did. “Why are you curious about that, Finnigan?”

“Well,” he started slowly as if he was thinking about the answer, “I wouldn’t want to be stepping on another bloke’s toes, now would I?”

For a long moment, I could only look at him in shocked surprise. He continued to watch me steadily, waiting for me to say something and really what could I say to that? The longer I went without saying something, the more he fidgeted with his hands. But still, he was beginning to watch me with mild amusement. If only to stop him from full-on laughing in the face of my complete shock, I forced myself to speak.

“You’re blunter than you used to be,” I said slowly, marvelling at how much he’d changed in the five years since he’d left Hogwarts. “A _lot_ more blunt.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No,” I said after another moment’s thought. It certainly made this, the earlier part of our relationship easier, with no blundering or uncertainty that made us pussyfoot around. “It’s not a bad thing. It’s kind of refreshing actually.”

“Good.” He ducked his head as if to hide the absolutely charmed smile he was wearing. When his smile had dimmed slightly, looking less like it was too big for his face, he outstretched a hand to take mine in his.

I retracted my hands, holding them in my lap with a teasing smile. “We can flirt for longer, or you can order our tea?”

“But I’d like to flirt for longer –”

“You might want to, but the person at the till looks like they’re getting ready to throw us out.” He peeked over his shoulder and realised we _were_ being watched and focused once more on the selection of teas that we were supposed to be picking from.

“Do you have any idea what you want to order?” Trying not to laugh, Seamus admitted, “It would help if we looked at the menu first.”

* * *

Every so often, seemingly out of nowhere, Seamus would teasingly remark about how little sense it made for the owner of a pub to be dating someone whose tolerance was rock bottom. Over time, I got better at parrying that it made _no_ sense for someone with as low a tolerance as I had to be dating a man who drank like a fish. The first time he’d made the comment, I’d frozen – wondering when we’d stopped teetering over the edge of beginning a relationship and the look he’d given me, silently daring me to suggest that we weren’t dating, had silenced me. Although, even now, I did wonder what day he believed we started dating because I just knew he wouldn’t let me live it down if I forgot an anniversary. Now, when he made the teasing remarks, I knew it was because I wasn’t giving him any attention. More often than not, I’d find myself settled in Seamus’s flat above the pub whilst I finished some paperwork that I had leftover. At first, it was because his flat was closer to work so I could pop out for my break but now I realised I was spending more and more time at his flat and less time at mine. Not that he ever complained about it.

Even now, whilst Seamus tended to his patrons, I was tucked away upstairs in front of his fireplace and looking over the final draft of the papers I needed for the meeting I had first thing in the morning. Absentmindedly drawing random circles on the carpet with the feathered end of my quill, I thought over one of the proposals that I just _knew_ would bring about complaints from older members of the staff.

A soft knock brought me from my musings. Glancing over my shoulder, I found Seamus standing in the doorway of his front room as if _he_ was the guest here. With an incredulous smile, I beckoned him inside. It was only when I realised, he was carrying a tray of something, that I sat up from where I’d been lying on my stomach. Crossing my legs under me, I watched curiously as he joined me on the floor. Silently, he held the tray out to me.

When I didn’t automatically take it, he pointed out, “You haven’t eaten anything since breakfast.”

At that, I risked a glance at the clock and realised that lunchtime had passed a while back. Gratefully taking the tray and setting it aside, I picked up one half of the sandwich. Lifting one slice of bread to inspect the filling, I asked, “What about you?”

“I’ve already eaten,” he assured me, smiling and stifling a chuckle at the size of the bite I took. Ignoring him, I chewed quickly – the quicker I finished, the sooner I could get back to the work I had left.

Seamus’s smile faded, a frown replacing it when in my haste to swallow my mouthful, I almost choked. Tutting, he reached for the glass of pumpkin juice and held it out to me. “Slow down, love.”

“It’s fine,” I assured him when I’d recovered from my coughing fit.

Shaking his head, he took the glass back when I’d drank some of it. After taking a sip himself, he wondered, “How have you not changed at all? Didn’t Parvati have to remind you to eat almost every other day because you’d lose track of time while working on an essay?”

“I just want to get it finished on time,” I insisted, dusting my hands of crumbs and then reaching for the second half of the sandwich. “I really don’t want to still be working on this when you close up for the night.”

“Well, I’d rather you not choke or waste away than having you still working when I come up for the night.”

“We can agree to disagree,” I said with a shrug, unable to stop myself from smiling when he shook his head once more.

“There’s just no winning with you.”

“It’s better for you to figure that out early in our relationship,” I assured him, laughing at the way he rolled his eyes. Finishing the second half of the sandwich, I reached once more for the glass of pumpkin juice. Seamus’s eyes were focused on me and I raised a silent eyebrow.

He said nothing and outstretched a hand toward me. When I continued to look at him, not understanding what he wanted, he finally said, “Payment, for the sandwich and pumpkin juice. I should let you know; I don’t accept cash or coins – only kisses and hugs. _And_ the occasional snuggle.”

“Occasional snuggle,” I scoffed, wanting to point out that he kept extra pillows on his bed so he could snuggle _something_ when I wasn’t there. But I didn’t. Instead, I put the now empty glass back onto the tray and pushed it aside and approached my expectant boyfriend.

Even before I’d crossed the short distance between us, his arms were open for me and I crawled into them, getting myself comfy on his lap. His arms wrapped around me, letting me burrow against his chest as he breathed out a deep, relaxed sigh. Part of me wanted to ask what had happened downstairs, which of his customers had decided to pick a fight today. Instead, I drew back from him and gave him a quick peck that he didn’t seem completely satisfied with. Before he could demand another, one of his employees called out for him. Seamus groaned, complaining under his breath but standing when I clambered once more off his lap.

Rising reluctantly to his feet, he promised that he’d come back to keep me company when he got a spare moment.

“You don’t have to,” I said instantly, reaching for the quill I’d abandoned upon his entry, “I’m just reading over boring documents, you don’t have to keep me company.”

“Maybe I just want to,” he shot back, dropping a final kiss to my expectant lips as he headed out of the room. My eyes trailed after him for as long as they could, until he disappeared out of sight and then, with a sigh, I turned back to work that was suddenly so much more unappealing. 

* * *

It was strange to think that just months ago, I would have reacted so differently to the invitation to join my colleagues for a drink. I’d have complained in my head that it wasn’t really an invitation if there was only a certain answer I could give and that I hated the idea of being stuck in a pub whilst they all drank. But now, knowing which pub we were going to, and knowing how easy it would be to slip away from them in search of Seamus, I looked forward to it. Really, I was going to head there anyway, to spend at least a little time with my boyfriend before I headed home for the night. This way at least, we got to end the working day a little earlier because our manager was joining us.

Although to stop myself from facing annoying questions from my more irritating co-workers, I would have to drink at least one glass of wine. But now, as I slipped away from the table after my first drink, I didn’t even feel the need to make an excuse about getting another drink. The less oblivious of my co-workers had put two and two together, realising what relationship I had with Seamus and sent me away with a teasing smile. Except, Lewis did make some remarks about getting a discount on his drinks but I refused to help him fund his alcoholic tendencies so I said nothing.

Making my way through the crowd, I adjusted my bag on my shoulder and easily made my way behind the bar. It was an action I did so often that no one batted an eyelid at me. Rather, today’s bartender took that as a cue to overtake Seamus’s duties for a short moment so my boyfriend could approach me. Smiling gratefully at the other woman, I turned my entire focus onto my boyfriend who usually smiled at the sight of me. But today he was more concerned with throwing an unimpressed glare towards my rowdy table of co-workers.

“Someone isn’t pleased to see me,” I teased, wanting to ease his frown.

“Of course, I’m pleased to see you, I just don’t like them making you come here to drink when you don’t like it.”

I reached out, grabbing his hand which thankfully had him looking away from my co-workers and back to me. “Hey, they’re your regulars. Shouldn’t you be glad they come here for drinks?”

“Not if they keep making my girlfriend drink.” Shrugging slowly, he reasoned, “I’d just rather have you spend more time here _without_ the peer pressure.”

“Why are you talking as if I’m barely here? You kept me hostage here last night in case you forgot.”

“And just how could I forget that?” he asked with the sort of grin that had me reaching out to swat him. He ignored my grumbles, leaning down to kiss me. It was only a peck, completely innocent but it still caught some of his customer’s attention. And just like that, a round of wolf whistles started that had Seamus looking like he wanted to permanently bar someone from his pub. He held his hand steady before his infamous temper could begin to rear its head. Sighing, he averted his eyes from searching out the responsible patron and met my waiting eyes. Under my gaze, his eyes softened as he reached a hand up to tuck some of my hair behind my ear. “You’ve brought your bag and coat with you so I know there’s no way you’re going back to join your colleagues.”

“I was just going to head upstairs for a bit,” I confessed, realising the way he was watching me. “What?”

“What are you going to do after I close up for the night? Are you heading home?”

“Why?” I teased coyly, “What should I do?”

“Well, if my opinion holds any weight, then you’d stay right by my side whilst I’m working. But, the second best thing is for you to spend the night.”

“As if I didn’t spend the night yesterday?”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” he insisted, waving away someone who called his name. His eyes were only for me. “Besides, you don’t have work tomorrow so I can actually cook you breakfast in the morning like I couldn’t do tonight.”

“I thought you loved me – why are you trying to poison me?”

He gave a sarcastic laugh before frowning at yet another call of his name. Dropping another quick kiss to my lips, he gestured for me to head upstairs. Before leaving, he called out, “Think about it, at least.”

Like there was anything to think about. We both knew I’d be spending the night. Even if only to stop him from cuddling with his pillows. 


	2. Epilogue: 8 Years Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spending the holidays with family was always something we had to balance.

_8 YEARS LATER_

Spending the holidays with family was always something we had to balance. More so after we got married. We had to make sure that we didn’t wind up offending either of our families and so we settled for alternating which family we spent Christmas with and where we spent the New Year. Personally, I thought everything would be much easier if _we_ hosted Christmas dinner because then both our parents could come to _us_ and we could spend New Year’s with our friends. But, so far, the idea of throwing Christmas dinner at ours was too intimidating for me to work up the courage. Maybe next year we could try. Although – now that I gave it some thought, maybe we wouldn’t be prepared to host Christmas dinner for the first time either. It certainly wasn’t the most appealing idea, not right now.

This year, we were going to spend Christmas with Seamus’s family in Ireland. Even now, despite how comfortable I now felt in his parent’s home, I could still remember my first Christmas with his family. I’d spent almost every minute feeling like I was walking on eggshells and not wanting to do anything to give them a bad impression of me. But now, knowing how laid back his family were – at times more laid back than my own – I wondered just why I’d wound myself up into such an anxious mess that first Christmas.

Seamus stood with his mother as they both argued about where the decorations needed to go on the tree. Every time we spent Christmas in Ireland, I had to listen to this argument and each time I wondered why Seamus continued to argue with his mother. She was going to get her way in the end, just like she always did. Of all the Finnigan family, Seamus’s father had the most sense – whenever the argument seemed ready to begin, he ducked into the kitchen to bring out the mulled wine. By now, they’d quickly learnt of my shockingly low tolerance and accepted that a glass of mulled wine would be my limit. It was just better for us all – the first time I’d joined his family for the holiday, his parents snuck me glasses of mulled wine because they thought Seamus was being overprotective for no reason. But, realising how quickly I became drunk and how giddy of a drunk I became, they no longer tried to sneak me glasses. Well – not so early in the day anyway.

Like clockwork, my father-in-law appeared from the kitchen with a tray of glasses of mulled wine as the argument geared up to reach the climax with heated _discussions_ about what should go on top of the tree – a star or a fairy. I occupied myself by hanging the stockings on the fireplace, hoping they wouldn’t try and involve me in the argument and that my father-in-law would skip right past me. I couldn’t drink at all this holiday.

When my father-in-law approached them, mother and son took a temporary respite to help themselves to some mulled wine. I breathed out a thankful sigh of relief, but it was short-lived. My father-in-law, red-cheeked and smiling, outstretched the tray towards me and my words died on my lips. We’d both agreed it was too early to tell anyone and –

“Dad,” Seamus called out, appearing like my saviour, “come and talk some sense into Mam.”

At first, it seemed like he wouldn’t get involved and would remain a simple onlooker. Hearing that her son felt like she needed stopping, Mrs Finnigan (the _other,_ Mrs Finnigan) went up another gear and it was finally time for my father-in-law to step in. But not before he gave me a glass of mulled wine and assured with a wink that I wasn’t a bad drunk so they wouldn’t care. Staring down into the glass, I tried not to frown because if I _didn’t_ drink it then there’d be an issue – it would be like I was looking down on the family’s old recipe. In a heartbeat, Seamus was at my side and snagging the glass from me with a reassuring smile. I watched as he drained it quickly, ignoring the heat of it and handed the empty glass back to me.

“Thank you,” I said instantly, leaning into his side when he wrapped an arm around me.

“No worries,” he assured me, leaning down as if he was going to kiss me. But the smell of the wine on his mouth was enough to have me recoiling away. He didn’t get offended, understanding just how weak my stomach had been for the past few days. He settled for squeezing my hand. “Just let me know if you need me to do anything for you.”

“I should be alright,” I assured him with yet another thankful smile. Since we’d found out about our surprise – because good Merlin, it _was_ a hell of a surprise – he’d been on the receiving end of my eternal gratitude. Without my needing to tell him, he knew when I was beginning to feel uncomfortable and I had an inkling it was to do with all the childcare and pregnancy books he had stacked on his bedside table.

I was drawn from my contemplations when my mother-in-law called my name. She looked between the pair of us in a way that suggested she’d caught the entire interaction. For one moment I thought she was going to say something even though we were still wanting to keep it a secret. But then, she just offered me a secretive smile and turned once more towards the tree.

She called my name again, before saying, “Why don’t you decide what goes on top of the tree this year?”

“Me?” I asked incredulously, stumbling forward when Seamus gave me an encouraging push. Really, I _really_ didn’t want to get involved in this argument because one of them would sulk for the rest of the night until they went to bed. By tomorrow morning they would forget it but the idea of dealing with a sulking Seamus was enough of a reason for me to silently point towards the star. My mother-in-law looked for a moment like she was going to protest but to everyone’s surprise, she conceded.

Distantly my father-in-law wondered just what gift I’d gotten her for her to comply so easily. It would be a few more months until he finally found out.


End file.
